


one of many ways in which batman and robin would never have sex

by Imkerin



Category: Football RPF
Genre: BROOO, Borussia Dortmund, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:15:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4614315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imkerin/pseuds/Imkerin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco and Auba's attempt to perfect their derby cosplay is spoiled by Auba's insistence on accurate batfamily characterization and Marco's insistence on getting laid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one of many ways in which batman and robin would never have sex

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellabaloo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellabaloo/gifts).



"Robin wouldn't say that," Auba says.

It takes Marco's brain an embarrassingly long time to catch up, to fit meaning to the English words; when he finally does, all he can manage in response is a shaky "Huh?"

Auba laughs at him. It's adorable and awful at the same time: his breath tickles across Marco's cock, cool against the wet skin, and Marco can't take his eyes off Auba's lips, how familiar and yet different his grin looks when he's got the mask on, how very, very much he wants his mouth right back where it was five seconds ago. 

He nudges his hips up a little to try to get the point across, but Auba pushes him back down onto the bed and grins wider, his tongue flicking showily across his teeth. Marco makes a tiny, outraged noise of protest, unable to hold it back, and tugs ineffectively at the embarrassing bright green fuzzy handcuffs attaching his wrists to the headboard.

"He wouldn't," Auba says, doing the thing with his tongue again. He half sits up, shifting more of his weight on top of Marco to help keep him pinned; his cock brushes against the side of Marco's thigh as he moves. He's gratifyingly hard though he's still wearing his briefs, but either the mask is better than hiding his reactions than a €10 joke costume has any right to be, or he's just inhuman, because he doesn't even flinch, just pokes Marco in the chest. "Hey, you there?"

Marco swallows, taking a deep breath and forcing his eyes up to Auba's, dark and shadowed by the mask. It's only a little better than staring at his mouth, but it's enough that he manages to say, "What?" and then, " _fuck,_ " as Auba traces one long finger up the underside of his cock, still holding Marco's gaze. It's sick, he's sick, nobody would ever have figured Auba for a sadist in bed, the way he's always all smiles, but this is-- and then Auba takes his hand away and Marco can't decide which is worse, the wanting it or the having it. "Shit, please," he says, casting around for what he's supposed to say, because it's not supposed to be Auba, it's supposed to be Batman, it's "--Bruce?"

Auba clicks his tongue and leans forward, on hands and knees over him, cape draping down across them both. "What did I just tell you?" he asks, dropping to his elbows to kiss Marco just below his ear, where he sometimes tucks his face when they’re hugging on the field. The rest of the sentence is a mess of French that Marco wouldn't have a hope in hell of understanding in the best of times, which this is decidedly not. He starts chaste enough, but suddenly his teeth are scraping across Marco’s skin, dangerously close to leaving marks, and the stiff edge of the mask is rubbing against his throat, and then Auba stops _again_ , leaning up the inch or so more that he needs to look down into Marco's face.

He's so close that Marco could lean up and kiss him, even with the cuffs, even with Auba's knees braced around his ribs. Instead he licks his own lips. "Robin wouldn't say that," he repeats, and is rewarded with first a smile, then the kiss he’d wanted. He's not sure if he can taste himself on Auba's tongue or if he just wants to, but it sends a shiver through him either way. He nips at Auba's lip, which sends Auba grinning again, and this close up he can't help but smile too, even though he's still so hard it aches and the metal underneath the green fur is starting to bite into his wrists. "What?" he asks into Auba's mouth, not breaking the kiss. "Why?"

"Bruce," Auba says back, the same way.

"No, that's you," Marco says, just to be an ass, just to see if he can make him laugh. It works, Auba's mouth sliding down off his and along his jaw. "Come on--" but he's not sure if they've really called this off, so he can't say _Auba_ and doesn't want to say _Bruce_ again if that's what set off this whole episode of Auba being the world's worst tease. He vaguely remembers saying it then, before, when Auba was halfway down his cock.

"Bruce," Auba repeats, mock-seriously, leaving a last kiss and then straightening up to look back down. "Robin would not say _Bruce_."

The repetition of the name, this entire situation, is starting to get hilarious, but Marco manages to keep a straight face, just barely. "Why not?"

"It's..." Auba pauses, mouth wrinkling into the looking-for-the-word expression Marco knows by heart after these last two years, one that's 100% Auba and not the slightest bit Batman. It doesn't make Marco want him any less; if anything, it makes him want to kiss him more, kiss the concentration away until Auba gives up on navigating the intricacies of three languages at once without Massimo there to help out and just thinks about _him_. This is not a new impulse for either of them, nor one Marco often passes up when they're alone.

But Auba shakes his head before Marco can lean up, shrugging a little. "It's not right," he says. "He'd say _Batman._ Only Batman."

"Okay," Marco agrees easily. "Batman."

"Because of the costume, so Joker doesn't hear." Auba taps his mask significantly in explanation, then rolls his shoulders a bit so the cape falls about him better, preening. The hem tickles against Marco's sides, making him squirm; a wicked light pops up in Auba's eyes.

"No!" Marco says, "No, Au--Batman-- don't you-- don't you dare--" but Auba's already sitting back on his heels, raking his fingers down Marco's sides, digging into him in the worst places. He twists, trying and utterly failing to get away, the cheap chains on his wrists jangling, screwing up his face so he won't give Auba the satisfaction of making him laugh. Auba's fucking cape is brushing across his cock, a feather-light touch that somehow twists itself into the tickling to make it even more unbearable, so that when Auba finally stops Marco's gasping for breath, his heart racing. "Batman wouldn't do that," he says, accusingly, as soon as he can find the air and the words.

"Yes," Auba says smugly, "he would. Batman uses every weapon."

Marco opens his mouth again and finds nothing to say, because Auba is absolutely right, damn him. And Auba promptly takes advantage of that, too, hooking a finger over his lip and holding his mouth open.

"Looks good, Robin," he says, half-growling it in a not-terribly-accurate imitation that somehow manages to come out sexy regardless, then promptly spoils the whole thing with another too-brilliant lopsided grin, his fingertip sliding out of Marco's mouth, down along his lower lip. " _Robin_ ," he says, "right? Or you like 'Dick' now?"

Saying it sends him into gales of laughter that swallow up Marco's choked-out _"Brutal"_ entirely, the kind of laughter that's impossible not to find contagious even if it hadn't been funny, which Marco is forced to admit that it was, despite being the worst pun ever made at his expense. 

"Yes," he says, when both of them have finally died down to snickers, "yes, I like dick--" which of course sets Auba off again. "So give me some." It's not the best line he's ever come up with, but given the circumstances he can be excused, surely. He licks his lips, his tongue catching Auba's finger where it's still lingering against the edge of his mouth. "Come on, let me suck you."

This is a phrase Auba knows very well in German, so it doesn't much matter that Marco's dropped out of English again. "Oh," he says, still laughing through the words, "he's on the counter!" But he scoots up Marco's chest anyway, touching himself showily through his briefs, that same one-fingered long stroke that he'd driven Marco crazy with before. 

Definitely inhuman, Marco thinks, and then Auba's got his thumbs under the waistband, dragging it slowly down over his cock an inch at a time, like some kind of crazy miniature striptease. The tip is just barely wet, making Marco's mouth water, making his breathing trip faster, into the same rhythm as Auba's.

When Auba finally gets his briefs all the way down, waistband tucked under his balls, he wraps his hand around his cock and takes one real jerk, making this tiny, soft noise, more than a breath, not quite a moan. More precome wells up, smearing down over his fingers as he rolls them across the head slowly. Marco's dick jerks untouched at the sight of it; he yanks at the handcuffs again, just as fruitlessly as ever. "Shit," he says, "oh, fuck."

"Say it again," Auba tells him, and Marco slams his head back into the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut, and groans longsufferingly. "Come on, man." There's a definite roughness in Auba’s voice now that's not a Batman joke -- he's pretty sure, anyway.

He can't keep his eyes closed for long; Auba hasn't moved when he opens them again, still kneeling there over him, cock in hand. "Fuck," he says again, devoutly, and gives in, like he always does. "Let me suck you off," and then, in case that wasn't what Auba was looking for, "I like dick, okay, I like _your_ stupid goddamn dick--"

Auba shuffles up a little more. It should look silly, but it doesn't at all, because he's got his free hand on the side of Marco's face now, holding him just so, and he presses his cock against Marco's lower lip, tracing the curve of it, leaving the bitter-salt taste of it behind.

Marco quits talking; he swallows convulsively, licks his lips, lets his tongue run up against the side of Auba's cock where he's still holding it there. He turns his head a little into Auba's hand, just enough that he can get a better angle, can kiss it full on, the head sliding between his lips and over his tongue. It's good, it's fucking good, almost as good as having Auba's mouth on his own dick, because finally Auba's control cracks for real and he moans, full out, and says _your mouth, my God_ in soft slurred French, which is one of the few phrases _Marco_ has managed to pick up over the last couple years.

He sucks gently on his mouthful, not teasing so much as building up; he can't reach as much as he'd like, not from this position. Auba feeds him more, slowly -- but he's not teasing, now, it’s all purpose and intent. Then Marco's lips are pressed against the curve of Auba's thumb, where he's still holding himself; he rolls his tongue hard up against the underside, feeling how heavy he is, how thick, and Auba curses under his breath and pushes in just a little more, filling Marco's mouth almost too much, almost enough.

Auba sets his hand against Marco’s masked face as he eases out a little and then thrusts in again, rocking forward in a slow rhythm, fucking Marco's mouth sweet and perfect. His fingers wander sideways so that when he shifts to the side a little and pushes the head of his dick into the hollow of Marco's cheek it rubs against his own hand -- and he laughs again, but it's short, breathless, almost awed-sounding, like Auba still can't believe they're doing this. It's one of Marco's favorites.

He grins back around Auba's cock as best he can, ducking sideways to take him back deeper, all the way to the back of his throat again. "Mmhm," he hums encouragingly, and Auba gets with the program. He tangles his fingers up into Marco's hair, messing it up thoroughly, and Marco couldn't care less -- it's almost hot, like this, with Auba's breath coming out in soft gasping pants now, sharper every time Marco's tongue curls over the head of his cock on the outstroke. 

"Marco," Auba says, _"oh_ ," and then he's coming with no more warning than that, pulling back enough that it fills Marco's mouth, so that when his hips twitch forward with each hard shudder that goes through him it doesn't choke him, just lets him take it, taste it all.

Marco swallows it as fast as he can, licking his lips clean, letting Auba's cock slip free sooner than he normally would so that he can say "God, Auba, get this shit off me, I need -- I want to touch you, _now_." He yanks at the handcuffs again in illustration.

"Okay, okay," Auba says, though he's not in the hurry Marco thinks he should be -- he stoops to kiss Marco again first, tongue flickering briefly between Marco's lips, chasing the taste of his own come between them and down into his mouth, until Marco swears at him again. He laughs breathlessly, almost more of a giggle, and reaches across to the bedside table for the handcuff keys, unlocking Marco's hands _finally_. "There," he says, "So Batman saves Robin from the Joker--"

"No, you called me Marco," Marco says smugly, reaching up with slightly numb arms to grab Auba's shoulders and yank him right back down on top of him. From there his hands slide so easily, so naturally underneath the cape and down Auba's back, over the broad, strong muscles, over the eagle wings of his tattoo. His hips stutter up as Auba collapses down, his slick, still-hard cock rubbing against Marco's, full and hot, the first touch he's had in what feels like a million years.

"Batman saves Marco from the Joker," Auba allows, shifting a bit so his thigh slots right between Marco's, the sudden increased pressure so shockingly good Marco gasps and digs his fingers into the small of Auba's back. "So everything is fine, and they lived happily. Except for Robin."

Marco steals another kiss almost before he's done talking; Auba's smirk makes it more difficult than it should be, so he slides his hands down further and squeezes his ass in revenge, then does it again entirely because he wants to. "Nice story," he says, pulling Auba still closer as he rocks upwards against him, rutting against his thigh with long slow thrusts, easing himself back into the need. "I like the happy ending."

"Me too." Auba wiggles his butt suggestively under Marco's hands, ducking his head to mouth at the side of Marco's neck again, gentler this time, but still enough to send lightning through Marco's spine as he brushes across his throat, leaving kisses like claims through the stubble there. "I like rescuing Marco." 

Shifting his weight onto one arm, Auba half-leans over, runs his hand slowly down Marco's arm, shoulder to wrist, watching his fingers cover, then reveal Marco's name; Marco lets go of his ass with that hand to take Auba's in his, letting their fingers fall together. "You should do something with this," he says, squeezing it.

"I should," Auba agrees. He rolls the rest of the way off Marco, flipping the cape out of the way and cuddling up against his side instead. Before Marco can complain, he's tugged their joined hands down, wrapping Marco's hand around his own cock and sliding his own on top, guiding him in the same long, slow rhythm.

He lets Auba direct it, lets himself fall apart under the touch, eyes closed, arching up into each pull, leaning heavily into Auba's chest as he tugs him closer, half-supporting him, cradling him close as if he'd collapse if Auba wasn't holding him up, which maybe he would: he gets close again so quickly like this, almost faster than under Auba's relentless teasing from before. Soon their hands are slick and sticky and he's breathing in shallow wordless gasps, thinking _almost_ s and _please_ s that never quite make it past his throat.

"But Marco, I have a secret," Auba says in his ear, so close his lips brush Marco’s skin with each word; and, once again, Marco can only manage _"Wha’?"_ before Auba continues: "I also like Dick."

Marco's laughing when he comes.


End file.
